Showing posts with label Kampot. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kampot. Show all posts

Wednesday, February 18, 2015

THE SOLDIER THAT SURVIVED GENOCIDE

Sunrise over Bokor Mountain, a former battleground in Cambodia
Morning has come early, and I'm up before sunrise with the rest of my trekking group. Our Cambodian guide Tri has arranged a truck from the nearby Buddhist monastery to give us a lift, saving us a day long hike down the mountain we climbed yesterday. 

We ready our backpacks in the cool darkness, until the sun peeks over the eastern hills. Clouds hang low just above the range, leaving a long line of orange sunlight across the horizon, giving the appearance of a far off forest fire.

Soon the truck pulls up, and we climb on the back. The truck kicks into gear, and we are off down the dirt road. The sun gradually brightens the landscape as we descend the mountain switchbacks.

As we make our descent, I chat with our guide Tri. I learn that he has a fascinating story of survival!

Like most Khmers, Tri is small in stature, but lean and toned. His hair is black, though his slight beard stubble has touches of grey. With wrinkles round the eyes, his skin is tanned, from so much time backpacking up the mountain with foreigners like me. 

My war veteran guide Tri, a true survivor
He has a youthful air about him; and I tell him he seems younger than his 51 years. But he doesn’t agree.

“All the girls tell me, you old!“ He says. “You old man!” We both laugh.

Tri's youth had been promising. He attended university in Phnom Penh, studying French and Khmer language. As a youth he was one of the fastest runners in his class. No wonder he was able to walk so fast up the mountain with us. As a trekking guide he leads foreigners like me up and down the mountain, again and again. He’s a strong little man. His running ability also happened to save his life during the war.

“I had hard life,” Tri tells me. Like everyone else in Cambodia, the war brought tragedy to his family. Tri's father was a captain in Lon Nol’s army, so after the war ended his family was eventually targeted by the Khmer Rouge. His parents, his sister and Tri were arrested by 10 Khmer Rouge soldiers in Sihanoukville. Their hands were tied, and they were blindfolded. They were then led away to be executed.

After they were marched into countryside, he heard a gunshot. He pushed up his blindfold, to see that they had just killed his mother. Shocked, he also saw that there were no longer 10 soldiers surrounding them. “I look,” Tri told me, “I see only two young soldier.”

His odds had improved. Tri bolted, and ran for his life into the forest, where he hid in the thick brush. He returned later, to find the rest of his family dead.

With nowhere to go, Tri hid in the forest, living off the land. He occasionally was sick, from eating inedible leaves and fruit. But he still managed to survive, living the hermit's life for over a year.

Tri cleared hundreds of landmines from this ghost town atop Bokor Mountain
Then the Vietnamese Army invaded Cambodia, and he finally emerged from the forest. He joined their allied Cambodian army to fight the Khmer Rouge communists. “I was angry,” he says. That’s understandable, given what they did to his family.

For years, Tri fought the Khmer Rouge. Through a combination of rough English and pantomime, he showed me how they used to target the Chinese made tanks used by the radicals. As a tank approached their position, he would have one of his soldiers run across in front of the tank. When the tank turned to follow him, Tri fired a rocket propelled grenade launcher, hitting the tank in it’s more vulnerable side. He talked of dropping bombs into tanks, and making homemade grenades, and booby traps out of Coca-Cola cans.

Tri was injured a couple times, including from a small landmine. He tells me that when it happened, he dived to the side when it exploded. Somehow he didn't lose his foot. He showed me some scars on his lower leg, and he tells me, “My leg, it’s ok!”

As he was a good soldier with some education, Tri became an officer, and went to Hanoi to train for one year. After returning, he rose to the Cambodian Army’s equivalent rank of captain, commanding 200 soldiers.

Tri stayed in the Army for 12 years, but he grew tired of war. He tells me that he left the army, because he came to believe that the Vietnamese just wanted the Cambodians to kill other Cambodians.

He soon found a more productive job for his skills. He became a deminer for United Nations Transitional Authority in Cambodia (UNTAC). He even cleared  landmines and unexploded ordinance from the ghost town atop Bokor Mountain, which we were leaving now. He had worked the old French hill station for months, with a demining crew of 50 men.

I asked Tri, “How many mines did you clear up here?”

He thought it over. “Many. 400, maybe 500,” he said. That's a lot of dangerous explosives to handle.

Eventually the funding for demining ran out, and his UNTAC demining crew was disbanded. Since then Tri has lived mostly in Kampot, where our truck is heading now.

Tri the survivor has done pretty well for himself, under the circumstances. He now has a family with five children. Two of his kids are now working adults, so his burden is not so heavy these days. Tri is very much in demand as a guide, especially to climb Bokor Mountain. After we arrive back in town, Tri will spend the evening with his family. Then tomorrow morning, he'll be rested and ready to climb the mountain once again. He's so fit, he could almost run to the top if he wanted. 

Less than two hours later I’m back in Kampot. I bid goodbye to my amazing guide Tri. By afternoon, I’m back on the road out of town.

Monday, December 15, 2014

PORT TOWN REVIVIVING

Coco House in the coastal town of Kampot, Cambodia
I’m taking an after dinner stroll down an old Asian riverfront. It’s dark and quiet; few are out walking this evening. Along the way I pass old French shop-houses, they’ve been uninhabited for years. Once stylish archways and pillars are now in gradual states of decay. Where bright yellow paint shone, it's now dingy and peeling. These used to be prestigious river side homes, businesses that brought important foreign trade into Cambodia.

This is Kampot, on Cambodia's southern coast. The Prek Kampong River flows through town, emptying into the nearby Gulf of Thailand. Kampot was once Cambodia's principal port. But when the larger port at Sihanoukville opened in the 1950's, this small town's importance rapidly declined.

Now these former buildings of commerce are empty; decaying and dilapidated. Weeds out front grow high through cracks in the sidewalk. 

There are lovely old French colonial buildings in town, but like these many are idle and deteriorating. Some are unoccupied and boarded up.
Dilapidated shop-houses on the river front

Fortunately, Kampot has been reviving. As I stroll further up Riverfront Road, I pass restored restaurants, and cafes. In recent years these have been renovated and reopened. Here diners are seated on sidewalk tables, with palm trees surrounding them. Redevelopment downtown is ongoing, though progress is slow. There are no crowds of customers out tonight; unlike Sihanoukville, Kampot has not capitalized on the rising tourist trade. But that's why some of these foreign folk have come here. It's quiet and serene, with scenic views and fresh seafood.

As little known as Kampot is today, it was once known as a center for one of the world's favorite spices. If anyone wonders what unique and quality product Cambodia provides to the world, the answer is: pepper. Kampot was known for exporting pepper to foreign markets as far back as the 13th century.

“Kampot pepper is the best in the world,” a lady drink seller told me. She’s right, and the Khmers aren't the only people who believe this. So do the French, and of course they know good food. Kampot's pepper was preferred by France’s gourmet chefs. During colonial times, all the best restaurants in Paris had pepper from Kampot on their tables.

Up until the radical Khmer Rouge halted all pepper plantation production, pepper was one of the country’s largest agricultural exports. At the height of production here, the fields of Kampot Province had more than a million peppercorn plants. With the Khmer Rouge gone, local farmers are growing peppercorn again today. Kampot pepper is once again gaining international prestige.
Tasty fish cakes for dinner in Kampot

Further down the river front,  I come to the town's oldest bridge. Crossing the Prek Kampong River, it leads right into the town's center. 

It's dark now and hard to see, but if you look at this bridge in daytime, it’s a rather bizarre looking structure. Parts of the bridge are old, parts are new. As far as construction styles go, there are not one, not two, but three different styles of bridge construction evident here! The oldest section has large arches, with steel support beams rising overhead. But two adjacent sections are basic flat bridges, with two distinct sets of support pillars descending into the riverbed.

This oddity is another legacy of the Khmer Rouge; the old bridge was destroyed during the war. Afterward, rather than tear it all down and rebuild it from scratch, they had to reconstruct it using what remained. I don't blame the engineers, as poor as Cambodia is, it's a wonder they were able to rebuild it at all back during that turbulent time. Having seen the three different building styles, I wonder, was this bridge destroyed more than once? 


Daytime view of the river. The old bridge beyond, destroyed during the war, has been rebuilt.
Winding up my riverfront walk, I go from the old, to brand new. Pounding music and flashing lights announce a disco. I've arrived at “Alaska Super Club”. It’s the only new building I've yet seen in all of Kampot. Cheesy neon signs show figures of female dancers. This gaudy night spot is out of place on this otherwise rustic riverfront. It's a weeknight, so they don't have much of a crowd. I decide not to pay a cover charge for a near empty club, so I turn back. 

I chuckle at the name: 'Alaska Super Club'?? I don’t think I’ll see Sarah Pailin and her brood walking in here anytime soon.

I head back to my hotel, avoiding some stray dogs on the way. Beyond the bridge and the river, loom the nearby Elephant Mountains. The most notable of these, is Bokor Mountain.

I’ve never climbed a mountain before, but I'll be climbing it tomorrow morning.